Going to Church

This past night was a bit restless for both of us.  Wes was tossing and turning and I was laying there listening to him toss and turn.  I checked with him a few times if he needed anything or if he was in pain and his answer was ‘no’ to both.  The night nurse had asked me if I could give Wes his medication at midnight, so I set the alarm on my phone to do that, but I needn’t have bothered because I couldn’t sleep anyway.  I woke him up around 11:45a.m. and he was not terribly excited to be woken up (this is why I like it better if the nurses do it).  He’s also quite tough to wake and when he does you can’t just start talking at him you just softly call his name and assure him that everything’s ok until he’s orientated himself a bit.  We got the pills down and before I could move his bed back down to a more comfortable position he was asleep.  I crawled back into my bed and sat looking outside the window, thankful that it faces the parking lot so I can watch people coming and going at all hours.  The ambulance runs, the police come, even a huge grey goose bus has been by and it can be somewhat entertaining.  The night before around 3:20a.m. an older man with crutches was waiting for his wife to pick him up at the emergency entrance and it became a bit of a comedy show for me.  Who needs Netflix? 

She pulls up and stops about 25ft from where he’s standing and starts to get out, oh yeah, I can see that isn't going to go ever well.  I can tell he is miffed.  He leans on one crutch and rapidly moves his hand for her to get back in and bring the vehicle closer.  It's one of those 'marriage' conversations.  No words necessary but the gestures speak loud and clear!

I don’t really blame him, it looks slippery outside and I’m thinking he’s not looking so stable on those new looking crutches.  She slowly and I mean slowly brings the vehicle closer, probably concerned he might slide under the wheels if he loses his balance and he's shifting his body back and forth not hiding his impatience very well at all.  Finally she stops right beside him and begins to get out again.  He makes more wild motions with his arms and she shoots back into the vehicle and just watches him while he maneuvers his way into the SUV.  It took him a while to do it and I think we were all holding our breath as he did. I don’t even want to imagine the conversation on the way home.  Wes and I have had those, I’m pretty sure most couples have. 

This morning I woke up somewhat discouraged and maybe a bit mad.  I want to go home and I want to take Wes with me.  God are you there? 

I had prayed last night for answers, for peace, for rest and yes, even for faith.  There are moments when my faith wavers and I ask the question why?  Why not give these stupid tumors to someone who deserves it, someone who’s not living a good life, and someone who doesn’t care about his family. Why Wes?

And in the stillness of this morning as Wes gives off gentle snores in a deep sleep God speaks yet again.  Glad He doesn’t get tired of explaining things to me!

And so he places these words on my heart, “Why not Wes?”

And then He continues and I know the words He gives me won't be dished out in small amounts.  But then, even though I know what He will say is maybe hard to hear, I do really like it when He speaks. And so here are the words I've heard before that he reminded me of;

My Son did not deserve his sentence either!  He was a Savior to the world and a perfect man, He helped the broken and He quietly shared his faith with the multitudes around Him.  He loved everyone equally and yet He did so much more.  He healed, He raised people from the dead, He walked on water, He performed miracles, He taught, He cared deeply for the worst of the worst and He loved.  He accomplished so much and offered hope and Heaven and still His sentence was death.

Do you remember the two thieves on the cross?  One reached out to Jesus and he was promised that “Today, you will be with Me in Heaven!”  Not tomorrow, not years from now, but, TODAY.  That promise still stands.

God's promise for life eternal.  Message received.

Death will come for all of us, it is a part of being human; the journey to it is not a punishment it is exactly that, a journey.  

I'm wondering if Jesus death was maybe a relief to him in some ways, the physical pain was gone, even the emotional hurt from those who turned away from him, the scourging ceased, the mocking was silenced for a moment with the earthquake and the tearing of the curtain, but the journey to that cross must have felt like forever for Him.

In the night, sometimes I feel like this is forever.  It’s so confusing because on one hand you cherish as much time as possible that you can have with your loved one, but on the other, when you watch him struggle it feels like forever.

So, after my initial conversation with God and His reminders to me of His Son’s love and sacrifice, I fell fast asleep.

And then Wes’ care for this morning began and though I slept on God's promises it didn't mean I woke up in a pleasant mood. 

Yesterday morning Wes walked once on his own to the bathroom, pretty unsteady but he made it there, but couldn’t make it back so it took two of us to get him back to bed. 

Today he could not walk at all.   But, I did manage to get him ready for the day without too much extra help.

When I was alone with him in the bathroom I took his steel basin out of its storage place and filled it with warm soapy water and washed his feet.  As I did I saw a beautiful picture of Jesus washing his disciples feet.  But, sometimes that whole foot washing thing didn't always make as much sense to me as it should.  I got that Jesus did it out of love but as the song goes, “What’s love got to do with it?”   

But, I get it now.  

Years ago when we would perform the Easter Drama and we would get to the part of the washing of the feet, there was some laughter and awkwardness as the men performed their part.  And I understood the symbolic piece of why Jesus did it, but, I never personally felt the emotion behind it.  It should be so simple, it is an act of serving your fellow brother.  Ok, makes sense, mostly.  But this morning, this morning down on my knees I finally understood why it was such an intimate and loving gesture. 

Jesus was not concerned about the cleanliness the act would produce but it was about the heart of the person who was performing this simple act of kindness. Wes’ feet were not dusty or muddy, but I knew he would feel so much better physically and maybe even emotionally after a sponge bath and this was another way for me to express my love for him.  So as I knelt before him in the bathroom gently washing this verse came to mind.

‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.'   Matthew 25:40  

As much as I was pouring the love I had for my husband into this time of physically caring for him, I felt the atmosphere in the room begin to change and I knew that in that moment that God was reminding me that I was doing for Wes, I was also doing for Jesus.  And my heart and my attitude were being moved from discouragement and anger in the presence of the King to a heart that was embraced by the warmth of His love.  

As I wrung the washcloth out again God gave me another beautiful picture, one of Mary Magdalene, washing Jesus' feet with her tears.  I used to wonder how can someone produce enough tears to wash someone's feet?  I think I know now.  

Wes was silent as I worked, but watching every move I made and I knew he appreciated every stroke of the warm cloth on his ice cold feet.  When I was done I rolled him back to bed and managed to get him in on my own and as he lay there I asked if he wanted the nice thick socks on that Tina had bought for him.  That sweet girl was so concerned that his feet were so very cold so she ran out late one evening and bought him some nice thick socks.  Striped and funky and he likes them.  I think when he looks at them he sees the love she has for him.  He nodded that yes, he would like them on and I carefully slid them over his feet, rubbing them gently to get his circulation going.  Then I wrapped him up in his blankets and he smiled and a few minutes later he was fast asleep.

I took a shower after he fell asleep and that’s where I did my crying.  Not the ugly cry or the cry of self-pity, but the cry that heals and says, “Father, once more I surrender who I am to you!  Help me keep the faith!” 

So, yes, I had church in the bathroom today and it was a healing service.  Just a simple single service, no singing although the acoustics would have been great, no preacher at the pulpit, definitely would have been awkward, no testimonies shared and no dramas performed, really no sound at all.

But, the Presence of the Lord was in that tiny room and that’s all you really need.

This picture was taken close to our home this past summer